


You've Got Kudos!

by Meadowsweet (grumpyphoenix)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fanfiction, International Fanworks Day 2015, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:11:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3365576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyphoenix/pseuds/Meadowsweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some Cupids kill with arrows, some with traps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Got Kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> I've been trying to upload this for an hour. I hope it takes.

Two days after Dean’s life is turned upside down, he and Sam are on a case in Nebraska. Dean’s kind of tired, emotionally weary down to the threads of his soul; Sam will not shut it with the Deanstiel, or Dean!Cas, or whatever. What makes it worse is that he can’t get the damn “I’ll Just Wait Here” song out of his head. The girl who sang it had been sweet and angelic, and there was something in her innocence that really did remind him of how Cas had been when he’d first started to fall. Now that his attention has been turned to it and all the shouting and running is over, he can’t stop over-analyzing everything. It's like a rock in your boot, a rock you can’t find, no matter how many times you turn the damn thing over. By the time they get to a motel room, Dean is about done with Sam, and Sam knows it. So of course, he continues to push. 

Dean angrily throws his duffel onto the bed and claims the shower first, slamming the bathroom door on Sam’s chuckle. He turns the hot water up to eleven and stands under it for most of an hour, clenching and un-clenching his fists. When he finally leaves the bathroom he’s gotten himself under control, and at least isn’t likely to clock Sam. That is until something catches the corner of his perception and tugs. Something furtive about his brother; not a quick movement, but maybe it’s his posture, or the too-casual way he’s looking at Dean out of the corner of his eye. Sam is nonchalantly sprawled on a chair at the rickety table under the window, ‘working’ at his laptop. When he catches Dean actively watching him, he gives whatever it is on this screen his full attention. Dean towels his hair and regards his brother. He puts on a pair of boxer-briefs. He sits on his bed and flips through channels. The tension in the air just gets thick, and he can feel his shoulders knotting under the weight of it. Still, he stays silent, ignoring whatever the hell it is Sam is trying not to say. Dean’s stomach growls angrily, and is answered by Sam’s, but he ignores it in favor of finding a classic horror movie marathon and settling back on the bed, pillows propped up behind him in a pile.

Finally, Sam closes the laptop with a decisive click, and offers to get food. Dean nods and waves his hand, eyes on the screen. “Get me a burger.” He doesn't ask for pie this time, he knows Sam will just forget it, or purposefully bring him cake or something. Sam goes with some kind of sarcastic jibe on his lips that Dean doesn't even register. 

He waits ten minutes.

Then he rises from his chair, and opens the damn laptop, and fools around with the browser. He knows Sam doesn't think he can do this; to some extent he’s cultivated the technophobe thing just to set his brother up for cheap jokes, but he also likes to be able to keep tabs on his brother and this way he doesn't cover his tracks… bingo. 

Sam’s been visiting a fanfiction site. 

Not just any site, either, it’s a site devoted to the Supernatural books, and it’s clearly being run by Becky. This has got to be what Charlie was referring to earlier, and he’s kind of weirded out by the fiction that “beckywinchester176” is putting up. It’s accurate and detailed, and it makes him think that maybe they should go looking for her to see exactly how much Chuck had written that was in boxes. Regardless, it’s not even her work that Sam’s been reading, the spot that his browser history lands on is a piece written by “forevertuesday83”. 

>   
>  My name is Sam Winchester. My brother and I fight evil, and that is when we are at our best. In between those times we fight each other, or ourselves. I constantly watch my brother destroy himself. He devours his own heart, tearing off a piece at a time and consuming everything that might give him joy. Any time he feels love for anyone but me, he tears at the feeling until it is so ruined he can call it anything, friendship, family, respect…anything but love. He was created to be a hunting machine, taught to reject love and stability and hope by the one person who should have given him those things in spades. We watch each other’s backs, we hunt, we move on. We don’t talk about it, and we certainly don’t stay, and no one wants to stay with us. Except one. Six years ago, my brother met an angel when he was pulled from hell and resurrected. Slowly, he and the angel formed a friendship that not even the hosts of heaven or hell could sunder, and they leaned on each other when I went off the rails, they had each other’s backs and defied heaven, defied hell, they faced the apocalypse arm in arm. Castiel endured torture for him, he fell from grace for him. He died for him, twice before I went to hell, and he’s done it again and again for him since then. They've done so many things for each other, and to each other… betrayal and near murder and rescue and … still they stubbornly refuse to acknowledge the massive elephant in the room.
> 
> Love. The angel and my brother are in love. I think I finally realized it when Castiel was forced to make a choice, kill Dean or lose every follower he had in the ongoing war for heaven. He was willing to throw everything away again, for him, to save his life. And Dean, he didn't acknowledge it, he wasn't willing to throw Castiel even that much of a bone, and I could see it on the angel’s face. He was so tired.
> 
> Not too long ago, he was willing to give every last ounce of his Grace, his life, to finding my brother and curing him of his ‘affliction’. His time was running out, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. Exhausted to the bone, he just kept moving, kept trying. I didn't really appreciate it at the time, but now I can see it for what it was.  
>  This thing between them will kill the angel, and he knows it, and he’ll let it. Dean doesn't understand how much he needs Cas in his life, but when Castiel is just gone for good I think what’s left of Dean’s heart will be extinguished, and he’ll never figure out why.
> 
> My name is Sam Winchester, and I love my brother. I just don’t know how to save him. 

There’s only one comment on it, and it’s from Becky, who apparently was moved to tears. Dean narrows his eyes at it, looking at the time stamp on the comment and the fiction itself. He taps his fingers on the table, running everything over in his head. What really sticks for him was seeing Castiel dead on that chair. The sense of loss had torn through him and ripped out any common sense, and then having to send him away had broken both of them in half. He pushes at it like a rotten tooth, hanging his head and gripping his hair hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. Castiel had given him everything, and Dean had taken it and demanded more, demanded loyalty and obedience, and had given nothing in return but a few scraps of affection. Why the hell does Cas keep coming back? Why would anyone? He’s startled out of the beginnings of a truly impressive downward spiral by Sam clearing his throat and placing Dean’s phone next to him on the table. 

“You wrote this.” It isn't a question, and Sam merely raises his eyebrows. Dean looks down at his phone, unsurprised to see that Sam’s brought up Castiel’s entry. He snatches the phone up and stalks out of the room. 

Sam sits with a sigh and a smile. Then he clicks on another link. Becky’s stories about Charlie and Dorothy are his favorite, and with the look on his brother’s face, he’ll be on the phone for a long time. 


End file.
